Quickly, I change into my baggy white T-shirt and jeans, tie my damp hair in a loose bun and hurry out the door.

Again, the men stationed in front of my room don't seem to mind I'm heading out.

As I march down the narrow hallway, I notice the three beautiful oil paintings hanging on the left wall. One of them is a landscape and the other two are different flowers drawn in vibrant colors, giving life to the alabaster wall. I always wanted my paintings to be this nice, but art doesn't have any place in my life.

I reach Elio's office and knock.

"Come in, Cerise," Elio responds and I frown. How did he know it was me? It could have been any of his men.

Hesitantly, I scan the area for hidden cameras but don't spot any.

Confused, I enter the office. Elio is sitting behind his mahogany desk. While Slava is seated crossed leg on a leather chair a few paces away from Elio, with her arms folded and her steely blue eyes throwing daggers at me.

Pietro is lounging on the right armchair about a few feet away from Slava, while Marco is sitting on the left side of the loveseat, his back is rigid and his shoulders are tense.

Gingerly I shut the door and walk to the seats. Marco pats the empty spot on his right, offering a small smile at me. "Sit 'ere."

I eye him suspiciously but Pietro's grunt of disapproval and Slava's sudden flare of nostrils convince me there aren't any ulterior motives to his gesture.

With a nod, I do as he asked.

"Marco believes-" Elio starts but Marco cuts him off.

"I can talka forr myselfa, fratello."

Elio presses his lips into a thin line, irritation narrowing his dark eyes as he leans into his chair and clenches his jaw.

Interesting. So he doesn't like to be interrupted.

"I believe you can 'elp hus with fixing thisa. You know the right waysa, legal. We know the..." his voice trails down, his hazel eyes sweeping around the room as if trying to find the right word. At last, he finishes, "wrong waysa."

I bite my bottom lip but it doesn't hinder my growing smile.

"We can... be p-partnersa." Marco taps the sides of his pointer fingers together.

Pietro spits something in Italian making Marco's face crumble with dissatisfaction as instant blush suffuses his cheeks. 

Marco sits taller and leans forward to look directly at Pietro, pursing the tips of his fingers together and wiggling his wrist in the air but Elio interrupts whatever he wanted to say. "Bene."

Marco huffs and leans back in his seat.

Elio's gaze snaps to me as he adds, "We've concluded to speak English for today, so I won't end up translating everything for you."

I nod and slide myself deeper into the couch, feeling Slava's eyes burning holes through me. I cross my legs and plant my palms on my knee, weaving my fingers together as I ignore her. "I'm guessing Marco is the only one who wanted me in this gathering."

"That's right," Elio answers. A pinging sound from his monitor draws his attention to the screen.

The other three visibly tense up, sitting straighter, moving to the edge of their seats.

After a prolonged moment, Elio looks up, his expression unreadable. "Salazar has our information."

Slava's lips twist into a smile, her blue eyes take on an odd gleam. Pietro frowns, drumming his fingers on his thigh, and Marco on my left has an equally unreadable expression as Elio.

I plant my elbow on the armrest and prop my head on my palm. I don't need to know what they are thinking.

It's official. I have to die.

Marco shifts on his spot, pulling my attention away from my sinking thoughts. "What do you suggesta we do?"

I stare at him blankly for a long moment. He holds my gaze, waiting expectantly.

"I don't know... the last war between the mafias was way before I was even born... I don't know how you guys handle the matters between yourselves."

"No, legally," Pietro speaks to me for the first time.

With a frown, I turn to him. "Legally? As in if I were to present it to the court?" I ask with surprise.

He nods.

Sitting taller, I fix my gaze on the back of Elio's monitor as I ponder over his question.

"Gather information, track their illegal transactions, find reliable proof that can be presented in the court and preferably eyewitnesses too, and that's it."

Elio rolls his eyes. "The question is not what it's about how to do it."

I tilt my head and hold his brown eyes' stare. "Don't you know their ways? What routes they choose, how they move, what's their tactic, and all that? You're the boss of the mafia is it even possible for you to not know how other mafias work?"

"Diffferent businesses, diffferent waysa. We hand Messicani harren't frriendsa." Marco rubs his chin as he speaks.

"Well if you don't want to get tangled with them... send someone into the gang-"

"As if I already couldn't have thought of that," Elio interrupts me with a huff, twirling a pen between his fingers.

With a glare, I move to the edge of my seat. "That's not what I meant smartass. Salazar is the head of sex trafficking; their target? Young women. You send an experienced woman into the next batch they kidnap to gather evidence and when we have enough information, pull her out." I wave my hand around as Elio's expression turns darker with every passing second.

"We can finda someone like thata." Pietro nods, turning to Elio as if waiting for his word to put my suggestion into action.

"No need to find. She's already sitting wiz us." A cruel smile slashes across Slava's pale features as she stares at me.

My mouth dries up. Fucking hell! My heart hammers as I pull on a mask of indifference, refusing to let any of them see my horror.

I shouldn't have suggested that. Fuck. I just dug my own grave.

Glowering at no one in particular, Elio asserts, "We're not doing that."

The finality in his voice makes everyone backtrack. Except me.

"Why not? We send undercover agents into these sorts of situations all the time."

His glacial glare cuts to me. "I said no. It'll benefit you to learn to never question my decisions."

I roll my eyes. "I'm not part of your mafia, I'm not obliged to follow your orders." Crossing my arms, I fix him with a pointed look.

A muscle flickers on his cheek as he clenches his jaw.

"We can geta informazione- uh... in-informationa from other ways..." Pietro speaks with hesitance as he stutters. In such a stark contrast to his usual confident manner of talking Italian.

Elio rubs his forehead with the back of a pen, slowly opening his mouth to say something but I beat him to it.

"If you can find and bribe a few of their associates, hack into their database, and station your trusted men in locations they'll be using as stop points to change their transportation means... then we can make a solid case."

"But they're expecting us to hack into their database and do the rest," Elio counters back.

"I refuse to believe you don't have anything to show the dirt on their hands."

"Not strong enougha," Marco grimly says.

I shift in my seat. I know the prosecutor who's after Salazar... he's been chasing them for three years. He also happens to be Dad's close friend.

I tilt my head slightly as I mull over the situation... he ought to have valuable information on them... but should I steal his case and hand it over to these people?

"What are the other alternatives?" I ask.

"To hand you over to them and get our data... form a sort of truce with trading you," Elio plainly says.

And they'll kill me the second they get their hands on me.

Now they want me to find a way to save my own ass from being killed. Marco is damn smart, pushing me to do all the thinking since it's my life on the line. Fantastic.

I fidget with my fingers and gulp uncomfortably. I hope Dad's friend forgives me because I'm running low on options. My only way of having a chance at prolonging the timer set on my life is by taking this step.

I inhale sharply. "Salazar expects you to hack into their system... but what if you hack into someone else's database... someone who has been chasing the Salazar crime family for three years."

Marco on my side gasps, almost jumping from his seat. "The prrosecutor!"

Elio's gaze flickers to Marco for a beat before latching on me. "Assuming we hack into his computer and get whatever we want... and achieve all the proof needed to start a trial... will you set up the case? Prepare it in a manner that would cost them heavily if put in action. Can we trust you to do that?"

I frown. "You ask as if I have a choice."

"You do."

I huff and lean back into my seat. "Of course, it's either this or dying."

"Still a choice." Elio quirks an eyebrow. From the corner of my eye, I catch Marco subtly raising his brows as if warning him to stop.

"She is not vorrzy of trrust." Slava straightens herself as if readying for a fight.

"Don't you have a lawyer to do that for you? Gather information and blackmail them into whatever you want?"

A corner of his lips twitches upwards. "We do, but you're a prosecutor, it's more effective."

As the last word falls from his mouth, the realization hits me.

Effective. They're going to tell Salazar I'm the one who prepared the case and would be appealing to the court.

"You fucking asshole," I glower at Elio and he smirks.

"It's not as bada as it seemsa," Marco quietly adds on my side and I throw him an incredulous look.

"Behave girrl," Slava spits.

I roll my eyes and lean to the edge of my seat. "You want to dangle me in the middle like a fucking bait and put me at gunpoint of seven mafias so you can save your business' ass. You're a monstrous dickhead."

"And you arre dead," Slava snaps, moving her arm behind her to probably pull out her gun but Elio's sharp Russian words halt her.

"We'll prrotecta you." Marco shifts on his spot and turns to me. "We prromise."

I roll my eyes. "I don't believe you," I scoff. "Your words are not worth piss to me." Disappointment flashes across Marco's features. Pietro grunts with disapproval but a glance from Elio silences him.

I glare at Elio. "I'll end up dead either way!"

Nonchalantly he shrugs. "That's what happens when not-so-smart people meddle with Cosa Nostra." He steeples his fingers and a mocking smile arches his mouth.

Bastard.

"You deserrve to die," Slava spits and raises to her feet. "I vant her dead," she declares turning to Elio.

He purses his lips and ignores his mother, fixing his attention on Pietro saying something in Italian swift enough it sounds like a very long word.

Wordlessly, Pietro stands up and nods before marching out of the room.

"We're trying to do what's besta for everyone," Marco says. "You cannnot see it now, but maybe you 'ave to." He shoots a pointed look at Elio before getting to his feet and directing his attention to Slava. "We must starta now before it's late." With that, he leaves the room.

Slava scowls and seethes something in Russian which Elio only clenches his jaw at and inclines his chin to the door. Without an argument she leaves the room, ensuring to slam the door as hard as she can.

"It will hold them back and they won't kill you because cleaning up the mess of having a dead prosecutor on a Cosca's hands is not easily manageable."

I stand up. "What makes you think I'll let you make me the target?"

Elio shrugs as he raises to his feet. "Because you want to live, this is your best option." He walks around his desk, his gaze never leaving me.

"And why are you so concerned about keeping me alive?" I frown as I dare to take a step toward him.

"I just told you," he mutters, his features darkening as we approach each other in slow careful strides.

"I don't believe you, and I have good reasons for it." I halt a foot away from him and cross my arms as I look him dead in the eyes. "Sure, killing a prosecutor might be a nuisance and whatnot, but it's not unheard of, and don't act like your mafia hasn't dispatched more than five prosecutors in the span of fifty years."

His chestnut eyes harden as he takes a step toward me, invading my personal space and making me crane my neck to hold his gaze.

"I'm not dumb, I've noticed how you're careful not to discuss some matters in front of your mother and the others. Why are you protecting me from them? Why are you so keen on keeping me alive? Even if it means lying or hiding stuff from your Cosca."

"Do not question the decisions I make as the capo," he growls.

I hold my ground and stand taller as I match his steady glacial glare. "But you are giving me reasons to do so."

"The less you know, the chances of your survival will remain higher."

"So there is an ulterior motive?" I quirk an eyebrow. That's what Marco meant... perhaps he's the only one who is aware?

He clenches his jaw and his eyes burn holes into me but I don't cower away.

He's the one to look away first. Shoving his hands into his pockets a cynical expression twists his features. "I have no reason to explain this to you. If you were smarter you could've figured it out." He walks away, leaving me gaping. "Or if you weren't so blinded with trying to bring us down and send us behind bars," he adds.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I trail after him.

He halts in the middle of the narrow space between his desk and the library and fixes a long hard stare at me as I stop across from him.

"The less you know, the better."

"Why?" I demand.

Annoyed, he presses his lips into a thin line. For a beat, he glares at me before his eyes spark as they widen slightly and a mischievous glint takes over his features. "I'll answer your questions, and you'll answer mine, do we have a deal?"

❈ ☯︎ ❈

So what do you guys think is the reason behind him trying to protect her and keep her alive? Any guesses? =))

I hope you enjoyed this chapter, don't forget to vote if you did and comment your thoughts!

Stay safe, lots of love, happy reading ♡♡♡